I've visited the temple many times the past couple of years. It's always been a place where I go to feel peace, think of my ancestors, and participate in the work.
But one day, I stepped into the warm water of the baptismal font, offered my wrist for the brother waiting in the center, and felt my whole body freeze in fear.
The brother's expression as he glanced at my wrist sent shivers through me, and I knew almost instantaneously as he gripped my wrist: He had noticed the scars.
My neck and face became ten degrees hotter, and I fought the urge to pull my arm back. I felt embarrassed, ashamed, and even a bit frustrated towards the man. Why does he have to look at me like that? He doesn't know my situation, or who I am.
But I was in the House of the Lord, and I knew that God loved me.
So as the baptism started, I took an inner deep breath and reminded myself, "I know, and I know that God knows, that I'm worthy to be here."
Think About the Healing, Not the Scar
One of the hardest things about depression is the way it makes you feel so worthless, so guilty, so ashamed, and so insecure. It's been a year and a half since I was diagnosed. I've overcome it every day. But the scars on my wrist reminded me daily. No, it's not something I'm proud of, but it's there, and it happened.
I like to remind myself that each experience is, in reality, beautiful. Isn't it amazing that even with my weaknesses and imperfections, I can enter the Lord's house as I repent and try my best? The scars are a physical testimony of the Atonement in my own life.
Being Strong Means Being Weak
Depression has taught me that acknowledging weakness is actually evidence of strength. A person who can't admit they are imperfect is a person who is damned.
Remember to be humble. Go to the Lord and talk with Him. Ask for the strength to survive the storm. Accept the pain now, and be stronger in the end.
And please, don't give up. It's exhausting to think about surviving for just five more minutes, I know. But please don't give into darkness. Trust in the Lord with all you have, have faith, and reach out for help. Call 911. Be humble enough to do that if needed. Let them come and help you. Let them take care of you. I swallowed a few pills before reaching out for help. Trust me, it's not worth it. Ever.
Believe me, sitting in a doctor's office where they can watch you isn't as bad as the world has made it sound. For me, it was an amazing blessing. I was able to let them take care of me for almost an entire day, and the pressure of living and taking care of myself wasn't as suffocating. It was surprisingly restful. It gave me the chance to breathe. It did not make me crazy. It made me human.
If you've been reading this, I hope you've never experienced the darkness as I have. I hope you've never reached the point where killing yourself seems like the only option. But if you have, or you are:
You. Are. So. Strong.
I have to remind myself every day, even when I don't believe it. Those words may seem to dissolve before they reach your ears depression will do that with anything positive. Go see someone. Don't allow yourself to feel ashamed, guilty, or embarrassed. Remember, God loves you, even though you can't feel it. He does. I promise.